


Organized Chaos

by palmedfire



Category: takarazuka
Genre: 100-1000 Words, Gen, Theatre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-15
Updated: 2009-12-15
Packaged: 2017-10-04 11:09:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palmedfire/pseuds/palmedfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Having grown up backstage at way too many theatres, I've always been fascinated with all the work that goes into making a production look effortless. With my newborn obsession with the Takarazuka (and far too many watchings of '05 ) I got thinking about such things again. And thus, this fic was born.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Organized Chaos

**Author's Note:**

> Having grown up backstage at way too many theatres, I've always been fascinated with all the work that goes into making a production look effortless. With my newborn obsession with the Takarazuka (and far too many watchings of '05 ) I got thinking about such things again. And thus, this fic was born.

It's madness backstage, as usual, but it's an organized madness. Mostly. At least as organized as it can be when you realize exactly how many actresses have to get changed, and none have the time to actually get anywhere except the wings. So it's a flurry of fabric and feathers, with wardrobe and makeup and hair folk weaving in and out, bite-lights clamped tight between teeth.

I'm out of the main chaos, standing on the access stairs, finale jacket inside out over my arms, waiting for the top star to come offstage for her final change. It's not quite a quick change, but it's fast enough to force us to be ready. As soon as she crosses past the sightlines, we move into action. She's already unbuttoning her jacket as she climbs the stairs two at a time. We joke (privately of course) that we've got her well trained. The jacket's off and in the wardrobe mistress's arms before she's halfway up the stairs. She's stepping out of her pants even as they're fitting the harness over her head. As soon as the harness is settled, she thrusts her arms behind her and I grab her outstretched hands. A practiced shrug of my shoulders and a step forward flips the jacket off of me as I pull her arms through the sleeves. It takes less than a breath to settle it around her shoulders.

Then, it's two steps back to let hair and makeup do their jobs. Instead I watch the careful progression of the feathered back piece as Suki carries it oh-so-carefully up the stairs. She tries, but she's short, and I wince every time one of the too-white feathers brushes the floor. Dust collects backstage faster than anyone can help, and the last thing anyone wants is a top star going out for her bow with a dust bunny hanging off her feathers. I relive her of her burden as soon as she's close enough, lifting the feathers clear of the floor.

We're all listening to the music, marking the changes as the senior cast members make their entrances. They serve as our clock, marking the fleeting seconds left to finish this. Minor near-disasters abound. A lace on a boot breaks. A hem has fallen. The harness isn't sitting right. Adrenaline runs high as each is dealt with, and finally the costume mistress gives me the nod and I settle the back piece into its slots in the harness, just in time. We all scramble and jump out of the way as our top star pushes past to make her entrance, just on cue as always. She flashes a smile as she passes, but if it's to us or preparation for her entrance, who can say?

Most of the others melt away, going to grab a few minutes of rest before the show is over and the chaos begins again, this time in reverse. I should do the same. I can feel exhaustion slowly creeping up on me, and while the show may be almost over, our work isn't near done yet. Still, I make my way up the access stair to the line of tape that indicates the sight lines. From there I can see most of the stage, the 'siennes below taking their bows for the audience. Rumor from front of house says we're sold out again tonight. I know why. As the lights catch each sequin, each glass bead, each little bit of sparkle it looks like magic. An unreal world of dreams and beauty and shine brought to life all too briefly.

"They never thank us, do they?" a whisper, barely more than a breath sounds in my ear, nearly causing me to jump. I glance sideways, loath to take my eyes off the spectacle below. Suki's standing almost too close, probably so she can watch as well. I shake my head at the question. She's been with us long enough to know the answer. No, they don't thank us, and why should they? We're just doing our jobs, and 'sienne have far more on their minds than remembering to thank every techie they deal with. It's one of the first lessons you learn working for the Revue. Still I hear Suki's resigned sigh and feel her move away. She's young, and like myself a failed applicant of the Music School. She's still hoping to catch some reflected glory to make up for her failure. Not me. Working with them is all I need. Watching them make their bows, hearing the adoration of the crowds, it is enough.


End file.
